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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658599">The many we marry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donnieambie_Dawn/pseuds/Donnieambie_Dawn'>Donnieambie_Dawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I Don't Even Know, I made wild an asshat, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lets spice it up a little, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, no Linkcest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:55:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donnieambie_Dawn/pseuds/Donnieambie_Dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Legend and Wild centric fic about identity, yearning for the unobtainable, and the fickleness of life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Legend/Marin, Wild/Mipha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I was still young at heart and free in the world, I made many careless mistakes— one of which almost cost me my life— but since then I have adapted. I have been shaped physically by the scuffage of tree branches along my bare back, before I had discovered cloth, and I bear the hot and unholy hands of an unworthy and sinful man. I have been shaped mentally, innocence slapped out of an erroneous child’s hands, as they long for fragments of a life once lived, if only, to mourn the dead.</p><p>As if that man— locked away in some vetust and jejune mind— ever cared about death.</p><p>I do not mourn death anymore. I have realized in my old age, that the dead die and live and die again in an endless, lovely cycle, and I will dance with my dear Mipha into eternity. No, I do not mourn for those with second chances. </p><p>I mourn for the souls of people, tempered and warped souls, who cut off their own circulation and lock their hearts in cap-cases to be left beside the road. For people who trusted, and were toughened in return. For those whose souls have shriveled in bodies still breathing, no drive to live, but all the drive to lash. I mourn for those lost stray animals, that bite the hand that feeds and cares, and does not partake in the treasures that life holds, because they burn dull in comparison to the fire in their hearts. I mourn one man. </p><p>I mourn that man— that <em> Legend </em>.</p><p>And sometimes when it is late and cold, I look out the window to the seas which he loved, and send a quick prayer his way. Zelda had caught me once, staring off into space with my tea abandoned and chilled. It was unlike myself, so she pulled up a chair and sat with me, following my gaze outward to the sea, where she wordlessly communicated her displeasures for the waking world, and I strained myself to hear the echoes of a man, long gone. </p><p>Some days I leave the old spiraling peak of Hateno, and work my way down the long craggy path to the beach. Where the long, wild and sporadic tendrils of firm foliage live recklessly close to the shore, where the waves beat upon them and my legs in tandem with the hidden moon. And in looking out at the vast unknown, I suddenly understand why he did it, all those years ago.</p><p>I was freshly eighteen and already an accomplished man, when I was approached at the grocers by a large imposing figure with breastplates of silver brass. He stood with his arms open at his sides, no weapons on his person, though he wore a brown leather belt where a sword should be hung— and he smiled at me. </p><p>“Hello, sir?” He approached me with his palms out, aware of the fact that I was uncomfortable and intimidated under his looming, one eyed, permanent glare. “Do you happen to know where a man named Link lives? I was told he lived in this village.” </p><p>“Yes.” I said, throwing another rice bundle onto the counter-top. “You just missed him, actually. He was here just a few minutes ago.” I rifled through my bag for a silver rupee and set it on the desk, where Pruce’s new apprentice eyed it warily. </p><p>“That’s a shame.” One eye sighed, pulling a bottle of goat’s milk off the shelf and paying for it with a simple red rupee. “Do you happen to know where he lives?” </p><p>At this point, I was fed up with Mr. Stalker, and decided to ignore him until he went away. It had worked for most of the problems in my youth, and it would not be until far later in my autumn years that I would learn to undertake early. </p><p>“Hello? Sir?” </p><p>I pushed open the door to East Winds and held it there for a while, before shutting it with as much force as I could manage. Of course, Pruce and his wife have an oak wood door stopper that prevents customers like myself from damaging their establishment with reckless abandon, so the door bounced back from the wall and slammed into my back. I fell to the ground.</p><p>“Sir?!” </p><p>“I’m fine.” I pushed away the hand he held out to me, talking note of the jagged, overlapping scars and twisted ligaments. </p><p>“Your rice…” Mr.Stalker lifted the sodden remains of what was to be my lunch out of a puddle, and held it out to me. I took it on reflex, and stood up, knees damp from fresh mud. </p><p>“My lunch.” I replied, briskly. I was dirtied and hungry, and my house was a foxtrot away, but if I was to go home, Mr.Stalker would soon follow. </p><p>“Oh? That was your lunch?” Mr.Stalker displayed concern, or at least feigned it well. “I’m staying not too far from here, why don't I make you something? My treat.” </p><p>The air was humid and threatening rainfall— the last thing I wanted at the moment, besides visiting this loon’s residence. So I decided to dust myself off and walk away, Ignoring him a second time. He followed me— of course that was a given. </p><p>I turned right along the street and decided that the sunken ground was more interesting than Mr. Stalkers vibrantly tattooed face, and missing eye. There was a story there, and despite my ire for his presence, I couldn't help but to give in to my curiosity. Overhead, it started to drizzle, and the earth became a warm sauna.</p><p>“Where are you staying?” I asked, glancing at his face periodically. </p><p>“The inn. I’m traveling with a few others though. I hope that’s not a problem?”</p><p>“Oh no!” I said, “Not at all. ” </p><p>“So you’ve changed your mind about lunch, then?” He gave me a smile from the corner of his mouth, on the cusp of becoming a prideful smirk. Though his unmarked face was turned to me, I still felt that air of mystery about him, and my intrigue heightened.</p><p>“I never objected.” </p><p>He turned his head from me, and we continued down the path in silence for a short while. Once along the road he faltered and opened his mouth, as if to make some profound statement for which only my ears could hear. But he closed his lips and seemed to recapitulate his thoughts, before continuing to lead me away from my afternoon plans.</p><p>It turned out that “a few others” meant seven other people, most younger than I. Three men huddled over a pot as a fourth stirred something apprehensively, and a fifth added bits of grass whenever the cooks were distracted by a sixth man— who was complaining about the food's quality. The seventh was asleep with a book in his lap, tranquil under a tree—and with Mr.Stalker in tow, that made eight. </p><p>“Boys! I’m back!”</p><p>Every blonde haired head turned to look at us and suddenly I felt very, very cornered. The brunet under the tree woke with a start at Mr. Stalker’s shout, scrambling into the dirt. For a second I felt bad for him— then I remembered that this lot was the reason my whole afternoon would probably go to waste. The grass kid spoke first.</p><p>“Whoa? Is this the new guy?” He ran up to me, and despite being a few inches shorter, we were eye to eye. “New guy?” I inquired, taken back. “I’m here because your old man ruined my lunch.” One of the men over the cooking pots threw his head back in laughter, and I watched as the tail end of his scarf was dragged in the spoiled rue. “Oh, that’s priceless!” He wiped a tearful eye with fanciful leather gloves, "Old man..."</p><p>"So these aren't your children?"</p><p>"No, they aren't." </p><p>I turned to Mr. Stalker, mischief on my mind. Then I singled out an older boy whom I had thought was a hunter by trade, and asked him "Not even this one? He looks just like you!”</p><p>Scarfy cackled quietly to himself, unaware of his pabulum rich plight. Another boy fished out the end and let it fall back to Scarfy's side with a wet slapping sound— which he was apparently offended by, as he gave a cry of "Legend, you bastard!"</p><p>Scarfy cupped thick rue in his hands a with dubious intent. The aforementioned Legend tried running away, but sometime between my meeting with the grass kid and this distraction, he had made his way behind the duo— and tripped the man.</p><p>Legend shot to the ground, tasting rich mud that may or may not have been more edible than the hash that painted his hat. "Food fight!" The grass kid yelled, intent on serving a slice of hell upon the world. True to his earned name, The grass kid bent down swiftly to pack his ammunition into something of an earthy cannonball, before lobbing it at something, anything moving.</p><p>Legend was hit square on the back of the neck.</p><p>For a moment time stood still, then Mr. Stalker grabbed The grass kid's wrist and hauled him away from Legend and Scarfy. He knelt down so that they were eye to eye, and even I felt immense shame for a lawlessness I did not participate in.</p><p>I watched as Mr. Stalker raised his hands to sign something to this random child, still playful and carefree and definitely too young to be a traveler— to which the child signed something of his own, and dejectedly dragged himself to Legend's form, still shamed on the aqueous ground.</p><p>"I'm so sorry about that." Mr. Stalker turned to me and side eyed the menagerie— Scarfy and Shorty and Legend all wiping away raw grime from their forms, as brunet and the hunter conversed with a man still unknown to me. The child stood hesitantly, away from them all. "He just gets a little excited now and again, that's all." </p><p>"Can't blame a child for acting like himself." I replied, moment almost surreal as Mr. Stalker took my arm. "Sky! Hyrule! Twilight! Come." He ordered, before towing me up the cobblestone steps of the inn— those strange men following right behind me.</p><p>"We need to talk with you." He said as he opened the door to the inn and ushered us all inside. He pulled out a chair from a nearby table and asked me to sit down, as if I had a choice in the matter. And after Mr. Stalker— now named "Time", sat at the assignation, he leaned in warily, and started to explain it all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the previous chapter I failed to explain the significance of Time’s singling out of me— in a village crowd of around one hundred people. The master sword is a bitter blessing to me, a hot and heavy weight on my back like the hint of spicy peppers in mild curry, and every time it graces my skin I am reminded of my own unworthiness to the goddess that chose me.</p><p>Despite this, it is my main weapon— I go nowhere without it. So Time the stranger walking up to the battle painted warrior with the holy weapon, and asking if I was him, was a mild surprise and something to be suspicious about. But me being myself, I followed him if only for the reason that I could— young and cocky and ever immortal in the hands of the zoran dead.</p><p>I held the master sword loosely in my lap, shellshocked by what I was told and whom these people really were. I couldn’t quite grasp it yet, that understanding of the world and what makes it up— or who made this up. At that time, Scarfy walked in and announced himself “Captain Warriors” and Time clarified to me that I could choose one or the other. Shorty arrived a few minutes after that, either unaware of my presence or content in ignoring me, and Legend followed suit.</p><p>“And there’s a dye shop.” They turned to each other, and I realized that they were probably in the middle of a conversation. I mentally chastised myself for thinking like the center of the world. “Oh my Din, there’s a dye shop.” Shorty replied, dripping wet with sarcasm and river water. I decided at this point, to make myself known.</p><p>“You go for a swim, short stacks?” I stood up and towered over the boy, who was seemingly torn in his decision to become flustered or angry. “No. I fell in the lake.” He said, almost deadpan. To this I turned my way to Legend and wordlessly communicated that essential question on my mind, to which he replied “I pushed him.”— as if that didn’t rouse more questions.</p><p>“We went exploring!” And suddenly, the grass kid was there. “You don’t have a lot of shops so we went to the ranch wayyy up the mountain and Four thought he saw a light across the water!” He exclaimed in one breath. “And Four wanted to get a closer look so he leaned over and Legend pushed him in!” After he took in air, he smiled wide at me. “What’dy think it was?”</p><p>“For the last time, you saw nothing.” Legend reached into a bag at his hip and pulled out wooden containers, steam condensing along the edges. He placed them at the table with a sort of precision and calculation, like Zelda does when she does anything, really. “It was the light of my fire rod reflecting on the water, that’s all.” Wind pouted at him, and Legend pulled the lid off the container. “No poes.”</p><p>A cloud of steam burst forth to reveal a meat and rice bowl, peppered with salt crystals and some seasoning I didn’t recognise. Four burst up from his cot, hair wrapped tightly in a towel and body enclosed in a shirt large enough to act as a nightgown. “Dibs!” He sprinted past us and grabbed for the rice bowl, retreating back to his cot where he huddled over it protectively.</p><p>“Do you need chopsticks?” To this, Four took up a handful of rice, stuffing his face by the palmful. Fluffy granules of rice stuck to his cheek as he inhaled his food, and I’m sure that at least half of it got into the bedsheets.</p><p>Legend didn’t react, as if this was a normal occurrence. “Wind, you want one?” He pulled the lid of another. “Nah, I ate the stew.” He waved his hand away dismissively, claiming the cot adjacent to Four’s. “The one from earlier?” Legend stared incredulously, and I couldn’t help but to join in. “Didn’t you put grass in that?” I commented, and Legend followed up with a “So that’s why…”</p><p>From the staircase, Time descended, a ghostly, godly apparition.</p><p>“Wind, It’s nightfall.” Time was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and boxer shorts, and yet I still felt intimidated in his presence. “You ought to be hungry by now.” It was a command, and everyone currently listening knew it. Slowly, Wind rose from the sheets he claimed to grab a bowl of rice, and sat at our table.</p><p>“Four? You want to join us?” Legend called from across the room, and Four shook his head in a no, rice peppering the bed sheets. Then Legend pulled out two more bowls, setting them in front of Time and myself. “CAPTAIN!”</p><p>Thuds echoed out from above us, but his face did not appear from around the corner. “WHAT?”</p><p>“Come here and eat!”</p><p>Captain— or Warriors, stomped down the steps of the Ton Pu inn so harshly that I had to mentally concentrate in not covering my ears. That rude action was not the first thing I wanted the captain to see from me personally, no matter how true to my personality it was. Four had other plans. “Could you stomp louder? I think the goddesses can’t hear you!” He huffed, cupping his head in his hands.</p><p>“Is Twilight still out?” I asked when the stomping ceased. Twilight was a somewhat familiar face in a sea of strangers, and whenever I see him I feel as if I am on the cusp of a memory— of a man that does not exist anymore. And when I catch the corners of his eyes, I can see his own apprehension, how he longs to tell me how great it is to see me again, but knows that the man he knew is gone and scarred over. To this very day, I do not know how he knew me, and now I will never get to ask.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>Wind picked at his bowl, chopsticks lax in his hands. Suddenly he pushed the bowl away. “I’m not hungry.” He barked, a hint of disgust on his lips.</p><p>“You have to eat something—”</p><p>“I’m not hungry!” He pushed the bowl so hard it rocked on its bottom rim in fast, sharp circles. “Just. I’m not hungry.”</p><p>“You think he’s sick?” I turned to Warriors to initiate what I had hoped to be a positive first conversation, to which he replied “He’s right here. Ask him yourself.”</p><p>True to Warriors words, Wind was staring right at me, a sort of childish scowl on his face. It seemed that all these accomplished warriors held this child as one of their own— as an equal. I needed some time to come to the same conclusion, after all, this was a child. A literal, pouting child throwing a temper tantrum at dinner because he didn’t like what he was served.</p><p>“Are you sick?”</p><p>We held direct eye contact for what I remember to be a minute of scornful silence. Then he spoke, “No. Just not hungry.”</p><p>Wind shot up from his seat and faltered slightly, taking up the bags near his cot and leaving the room. “Talk to me tomorrow.” I could hear him go up and down the steps, cross the hall, and walk out the door. The bell’s gentle ting, ting, ting, did not help to alleviate that crushing feeling of wrongness, and my own confusion.</p><p>“Does... anyone know what that was?” Warriors spoke slowly, carefully as he could be brash.</p><p>“Puberty?” I suggested. To which Four started to laugh, and Legend chuckled into his rice bowl—despite the tenseness still lingering in the air. Time looked perplexed, “Maybe? What’s puberty?” And all the tenseness faded away.</p><p>Four and Legend stopped laughing, and even I had the audacity to stare directly into his unblinking eye and say, “How do you of all beasts not know what puberty is?” Four snickered to himself, and Time was ever bewildered.</p><p>“Oh, shut up, Four.” Legend countered in the defense of Time. “Back to Wind.”</p><p>“No, no. Why doesn't Time know what puberty is?” I inquired.</p><p>“7 years sleep, remember?” Time answered me, and I said back, “But I was asleep for a hundred years, and I didn't change at all!”— which was apparently not the right thing to say in hindsight.</p><p>Faces turned towards me, all waiting for the story to spill from my lips like hot vomit. I suddenly felt sickened, and so I stood up to leave, when Warriors caught the end of my sleeve.</p><p>“It’s okay.” He was but a whisper, “You don't have to say anything now.” He pulled me to my chair, and so I reluctantly sat down.</p><p>“No. You all…” I stared into the face of the hero of time. “You all deserve to know.”</p><p>“Well, tell us when everyone's here.” Four said from across the room, buying me time. I nodded at him in thanks.</p><p>“Alright. Who's out?” I hastily added “Other than Twilight.” And “When will they be back?”</p><p>“Well… Sky and Twilight are clothes shopping, I think. And Wind stormed out earlier…” Warriors paused. “Who am I forgetting?”</p><p>“Hyrule.” Time and Legend said in tandem.</p><p>“Oh yeah, him! He’s probably lost.” Warriors crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, reveling in the accomplishment of remembrance.</p><p>I scraped the end of my bowl with my chopsticks and set them aside, “Thank you for the meal, Legend.” The chair rasped across the floor as I pushed it back and stood up.</p><p>“Now where are you going?” Warriors stood up as well, as if to keep me from leaving. Supressing my flighty instincts, I stood perfectly straight and addressed the captain. “Balcony.”</p><p>He relaxed, and sat back down. “I just don't want us to get seperated. I feel better in groups.”</p><p>I was the exact opposite, but I wasn't going to insinuate that no, I didn't know. Instead I hit him on the shoulder as gorons do with their brothers, and reached back for the handle to the door. “Yeah.”</p><p>And then I left them.</p><p>Closing the door, I breathed in the hot and heavy air. Petrichor swirled, and lantern lights danced as adults “awoke” and children were put to bed.</p><p>I threw myself over the short end of the balcony, and landed in a puddle of mud. But, as I was already covered in grime, I didn't mind. I had a bed and a hot bath waiting for me at home— courtesy of Zelda.</p><p>Not that I cared.</p><p>The next day I awoke with a stranger in my bed, and opted to get up and leave before she could drag me into a conversation or a social function. I could always have breakfast with the other “Links” now that I’d be a part of their group for an unimaginable amount of time— and I could function just fine on my own. But before I left, I took one last glance at her sleeping form, and whispered a small “goodbye”— as I was feeling somber about leaving home. No matter how much I wished her out of my house, I still knew her, and that counted for something.</p><p>On the way to the inn, I stopped by every shop to bid the keepers farewell. I passed honey candies out to the children, and soon I had a flock following me around. Door to door, person to person, everyone got a goodbye.</p><p>Then I was on the old cracked steps of Ton Pu, and I told the children to scatter as I handed them the whole bag. I would be gone for a while— maybe forever, and I wouldn’t have to deal with their parents' complaints about it.</p><p>I gently opened the door, and stepped into the murmurs and snores of the sleeping inn. Legend, Hyrule, and Sky sat at the table, Time and Twilight standing to the side with glasses in hand. “Is everyone else asleep?” I asked, innocently— before I was backhanded by Legend with a fistful of rings.</p><p>“Where were you?!” He yelled, no courtesy for his sleeping comrades. I shrugged off the pain, though the stinging impact of the jewels left indents in my flesh.</p><p>“What? I went home— it was late.”</p><p>“You didn't tell anyone where you were. Warriors was worried out of his mind. He didn’t get any sleep, and now he’s going to be compromised all day today— because you decided to leave on a whim.” With every word he hissed through his teeth, his finger jabbed into me, and I was slowly pushed out the door. “If you like being on your own so much, maybe you should just go.”</p><p>Then the door was slammed in my face.</p><p>At that moment I was deeply offended, believing I that I was purely innocent of this grievance put against me. Hot headed and scowling, I made to leave. Then the door opened again, and I was invited inside against my own will.</p><p>“It’s fine.” I said aloud, addressing no one in particular. “I can go, I’ve got better things to do than hang around with you sorry lot.”</p><p>That got a reaction from every conscious figure in the room, some visibly glaring, others merely gripping their glasses tighter. Suddenly I remembered that I was in a room with five of the most legendary heroes known to the hylian race. And Time, who had opened the door, was by far the closest and most terrifying figure. “Come again?”</p><p>“I—I” I steeled and committed myself, right then and there, “If I’m not appreciated here, I can just go on my own, like I’ve always done. Wake up Wind and Four and get ‘Warriors’ from whatever hole he had a crisis in, and I’ll explain everything.”</p><p>It took all my will to not tense as I walked past Time like some child about to be slapped. I didn’t make eye contact with him, nor the three figures at the table, nor the stumbling sleep deprived children that tripped their way to their seats— and I definitely didn’t look up when the captain was escorted to a chair, meek and loathing. “Everyone here? You don’t have some crazy hero like ‘the hero of trains’ right around the corner, right?”</p><p>Nobody laughed at my pitiful excuse for a joke, but it wasn’t like I expected them to. I had obviously hurt them— though my actions were justified. I just had to… explain my behavior.</p><p>“100 years ago I died fighting Ganon and was put into hydro-stasis.” off the bat, I could see the three lethargic legionaries eyes light up in disbelief— the others reactions not far off.</p><p>“I woke up in a shrine with no memories or sense of self. No language. No people, because Calamity Ganon killed them all. I woke up in my boxers, and those left me after a day and a half.” Everyone was in rapt attention, some still clinging on to their last vestiges of anger. Wind was giggling at my last sentence.</p><p>“Woah woah, you died fighting Ganon?” Legend burst out. “Then you were resurrected? How is this town standing if Ganon supposedly killed everyone?” I waved my hand, dismissively.</p><p>“I’ll get there, Pinkie. Back to the story, I was all alone. Thought like an animal, fought like an animal, lived like an animal. Eventually the old man on the plateau found me and made me ‘civilized’, but even he couldn’t get rid of some of my more… eccentric personality traits.”</p><p>“Well you can’t just go running off like that! If you really were raised by wolves, you’d have the common decency to stay in a pack!”</p><p>“I hate wolves.” I countered, right off the bat. “And I’m not implying that I’d abandon you. I’m just saying that I’ll do what I want, when I want, regardless of whether or not you want it.”</p><p>Legend seemed impressed, even though his tone still conveyed frustration, “And Ganon?”</p><p>“Ever notice how empty it is out here?”</p><p>Wind interjected. “No. The portal spawned us in town!”</p><p>“Well…” I stretched, then made my way to the door. “According to old father Time over here—” I jabbed my thumb in his direction “we’ve got nothing to do here. Yahaha, you’ve found me. Now we leave.”</p><p>“But we just got here!” Four protested.</p><p>“There’s nothing to see here. And there’s even less outside of town. I’m trying to show you. Now then, is anyone coming?”</p><p>An orchestra of scraping chairs sounded out as people sat up and started for their beds, packing various objects away— and in some cases, getting dressed, as they prepared to leave. We needed to leave town as quickly as possible. It was already 10:40, and dusk falls early in the warm months.</p><p>“So… Gan—”</p><p>“Roughly 90 percent of the hylian population, 30 percent of the goron population, 50 percent of central hylian Zoras, 40 percent of the gerudo tribe and 80 percent of the rito have been terminated in the Calamity.” I answered Legend, before he could bark my ear off with his question. Legend seemed to take in the information, brow furrowed and shoulders hunched, as he pondered something in his head.</p><p>“Yes… Thank you.” He mumbled back, as he turned away to pack the rest of his living room away.</p><p>Four, who was light packed and ready, stood beside me.</p><p>We loitered under the grand arches of the newly renovated inn. Cheap electric light bulbs dangled from wires fed from power lines, and made a faint layer of white noise to add to the bumping and clinking of the heroes and their extensive arsenal of items.</p><p>“So... hero titles.”</p><p>“What?” Four craned his head to look at me.</p><p>“Everyone has a name based on their titles.” I double checked, “You’re Four, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I am.” Four tapped his boots on the ground, toe first, and adjusted the strap on his pack. “It was either ‘Four’ ‘Sword’ or ‘Men’.”</p><p>“So you named yourself after a number? What’s next? Colors?”</p><p>Four sparked into laughter, hiding it in his sleeve as he pretended to cough. “Well… what’s your nickname?”</p><p>“I—uh.” I blanked. Recalling my hero's title caused a thin wave of static to pulse through my brain, like a steady electric current. The buzzing of the lights heightened, and the world grew dimmer.</p><p>“You ok?”</p><p>“I’m the hero of…”</p><p>A warm house. A cozy fireplace. A sharp smell. Cinnamon. The promise of snow. The beauty of a grotto. A hike. A fall. A snowstorm. A hopeless search party. A victim of—</p><p>“The wild.” I said, breathing in sharply as I realized I had stopped for the entirety of my episode, however brief. “My name is Wild.”</p><p>When I looked up, I saw everyone gathered around me in smiles— and although some were fake, I could at least give my own in return.</p><p>“Welcome to the team, Wild.”</p><p>Time clapped me on the back with a meaty hand, and I stumbled forward a bit. There was no doubt in my mind that his mimic of my actions last night was done out of revenge, if only for his smug aura and absolute shit eating grin.</p><p>“Shall we go?” He asked, to which I confirmed that yes, theoretically we can go. Seven pairs of eyes squinted at us. Are all hylians born hating that joke?</p><p>I paid Prima in full, though she insisted we stay for free, and left with my new traveling partners— the men I would get to know for the next six years of my life, though it felt as if I had known them forever.</p><p>I led them on in silence.</p><p>“So Wild. That’s an odd name.”</p><p>“Your name is Hyrule.” I snapped, before I realized that he was just trying to make conversation, and I have been nothing but an asshole to these people.</p><p>“Yeah. Hero of…*cough* the Wild.” I said, awkwardly. The silence assumed its rightful place as a suffocating barrier— between me and my group. Which was… an odd statement. Link, the lone survivor, traveling in a group? It was almost absurd. Almost.</p><p>And as I strolled through the streets of Hateno, it began to dawn on me that I really was leaving my hometown, my homeland, to travel with a group of strangers I had met not only a day prior.</p><p>But alas, I was the same foolish follower that stepped out of the shrine of resurrection with no memories, no sense of self, and yet still carried through the orders that were given to me. And, if I am truly honest with myself, I am still that same follower.</p><p>Without so much as a glance back I left the safety and comfort of Hateno Village, and I would not return for many years to come.</p>
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